


i'm a gallagher...get me out of here!

by oforamuse



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oforamuse/pseuds/oforamuse
Summary: It’s been 3 days, 10 hours and 32 minutes.3 days, 10 hours and 32 minutes and mickey milkovich is about to lose his goddamn mind.or, a gallagher house quarantine fic
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Lip Gallagher/Tami Tamietti
Comments: 25
Kudos: 343





	i'm a gallagher...get me out of here!

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i finally gave in and wrote a quarantine fic. firstly, i'm gonna say i am so sorry if this offends anyone and think i am making light of an awful, awful situation that is happening all over the world. currently my government are refusing to call for an official lockdown of the country so they don't have to pay out anything to those who would be losing out on business (fuck you, boris johnson) and i am very upset and frustrated at the lack of action - it's an incredibly stressful time and i needed to do something to help ease my anxiety. this was it. 
> 
> enjoy it, i guess.

It’s been 3 days, 10 hours and 32 minutes. 

3 days, 10 hours and 32 minutes and Mickey Milkovich is about to lose his goddamn mind. 

When the mayor had announced that the city was going into quarantine and everyone had to do their best to stay indoors, Mickey hadn’t thought much of it. He hadn’t been paying a _huge_ attention to the news, but he knew there was some shit going around. 

The shit was bad, apparently. 

Now, 3 days later, he’s weighing up the pros and the cons of saying _fuck it_ and burning the entire Gallagher house to the ground. 

‘For the last time Carl- you, you can’t sell our toilet paper on the black market.’ Debbie yells through the bathroom door, ‘We _need_ it!’ 

Mickey scrubs a hand over his eyes irritably, having been woken up moments before by an angry Debbie pounding at the boys’ bedroom door. Even with them now sleeping in a separate bedroom, it managed to echo across the hall and knock him abruptly out of sleep. He hears Carl cackle and run down the hall, his feet pounding.

Fuck, even with a global health crisis going on, they’re the noisiest fucking family ever. 

‘I’m gonna murder your family.’ Mickey groans, rolling into Ian’s warm side. This is good, this is where he wants to be. 

The other man chuckles, the vibration deep in his chest, and he brings a hand to rest on top of Mickey’s head affectionately, ‘They’re your family now too.’ Ian says smugly, his voice low and quiet. 

Mickey makes a noise of disgust, ‘I want a divorce.’ 

‘Shut the fuck up.’ Ian says, rolling his eyes before poking Mickey between his ribs. He yelps out, surprised by the sudden movement, and grabs Ian’s wrist, quickly pinning it to the mattress.

'Gonna be like that then, huh?' He challenges, rolling himself on top of the other man, their chests flush against one another. His eyes flicker down to Ian’s lips, looking so soft and pink, so delectable. He smirks and leans in closer, breathing hotly into each other's mouths and their lips only an inch _apart_ _-_

Carl comes crashing into their bedroom, tripping over the carpet and straight onto the floor with Debbie storming in after, launching herself straight for the toilet paper gripped in his hand. 

‘ _Jesus Christ_ , Gallagher.’ Mickey grumbles, his jaw clenched but he allows his head to fall into the crook of Ian’s neck. 

Ian sighs exasperatedly, moving them both upright to sit against the headboard, ‘Guys, knock it off.’ 

‘These things are going for like 50 bucks each on ebay.’ Carl yells, slipping out of Debbie’s way and jumping onto their bed, waving the toilet roll high above his head. ‘Gonna make some sick cash.’ 

Their mattress dips as he bounces around and every time his body rolls along with the movement, Mickey can feel himself getting more and more pissed off. 

_Bounce_ , fucking, _bounce_ , shithead, _bounce_ , Gallaghers, _bounce_. 

‘Get the fuck outta here.’ Mickey snaps, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his hands. ‘It’s too early for your shit.’ 

‘Don’t touch your face!’ Debbie screeches, and Mickey rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his head. She moves forward quickly, tackling Carl by his knees and sending him tumbling to the mattress. They fall into a heavy pile on top of where Ian and Mickey’s legs are tangled together, Mickey flinches, pulling his knees up out from underneath them. 

‘I swear to _God-_ get the fuck out of here otherwise I will make both of you sorry.’’ Mickey bites, lurching forward to shove Carl off of the bed and onto the floor. 

‘Ian tell Carl he’s not allowed to sell our toilet paper.’ Debbie snaps, grabbing the roll from Carl’s grip, who cries out in protest. She shoves at his shoulder, sending him back down to the floor. ‘Shut up, what if Franny needs it! Be a good _Uncle_ Carl!’ 

‘Quit being an asshole.’ Ian yawns, his voice rough with sleep. Something low in Mickey’s stomach warms at the tone, it’s comforting and close. He shifts himself towards Ian because even though they spent an entire night wrapped around each other, it's never enough. Mickey's allowed to take as much as he wants these days. 

He's drawn back by Carl moaning and picking himself up off the floor indignantly. ‘Whatever.’ He mutters, stalking back out of the room, 'You're gonna regret it when I'm making the big money!' He calls. 

The kid never knows when to stop. 

‘Can you believe him?’ Debbie asks, incredulously. She stands there, hands on hips, staring at the two men in the bed with wide, expectant, eyes. ‘Guys?’ 

God, Mickey is so _done_ with every Gallagher except the one in his bed. 

(He’ll never be done with him.)

‘If you don’t get out of _here-’_ Mickey starts, his tone low and pissed off, but luckily he doesn’t have to finish the thought as Debbie rolls her eyes and spins out of the room with the toilet roll in hand. ‘No one would blame me if I murdered them, you know.’ He turns to Ian, who has his eyebrow curved upwards, and a small smile on his lips.

‘Killing family members would be hard to explain to your P.O.’ Ian says fondly, leaning back against the headboard placing one arm behind his head. Blood shoots down to Mickey’s crotch at the movement, and he stares at the way the muscles in his husband’s arm pop. God, he’s fucking hot. All thoughts of homicide fly out of his head as a wave of attraction washes over him and all he wants to do is _attack_. ‘Don’t need you getting your ass thrown back in the joint over toilet paper.’ 

Mickey watches his lips move as he speaks, then thinks, _fuck it._ His hand comes up and grips the back of Ian’s neck, pulling him forward and crashing their lips together. Despite the initial intensity, it’s soft and gentle. 

They break, and rest their foreheads against one another, breathing each other in softly. 

‘What was that for?’ Ian whispers, his breath coming out in hot puffs against his lips. 

‘Felt like it.’ He mumbles, his fingers curling softly in the hair at the nape of Ian’s neck. Ian smiles softly and Mickey can’t help the way the corners of his lip curl upwards to smile back. 

Even with all the crazy shit going on they’re warm, they’re together, they’re safe. 

* * *

They’d finally managed to drag themselves out of bed an hour ago or something, slowly pulling themselves together for a day of doing literally _nothing_ except menial shit to pass the time. Mickey’s so bored he might actually start looking for a fucking hobby, God forbid. 

‘Who the _fuck_ ate all the cereal?’ Ian groans, turning around from the cupboard empty handed. Mickey looks up from his coffee cup, frowning. There was definitely a full box in there the day before yesterday - he knows, cause he bought it. 

‘Sold it.’ Carl says from where he’s slouched against the sofa, flicking blankly through rerun after rerun on the tv. 

‘The fuck you do that for?’ Mickey snaps, his jaw clenched tightly. These kids were fucking scroungers, always. 

‘Some guy down the road wanted it for a couple of bucks, but I traded it for some hand sanitiser.’ He continues, his eyes not leaving the screen. 

‘ _Caaarl_.’ Ian says, his head falling back against the fridge in exasperation, eyes closed. ‘Please stop selling our shit.’ 

‘It was an investment!’ Carl protests, and Mickey's fist clench. All he wants to go the fuck back to sleep, but considering he can hear Franny _wailing_ upstairs, he figures that's a bust right now. He resigns to grumbling into his coffee, _Fucking_ Gallaghers. 

‘Can one of you help me with my homework?’ Liam asks, sliding into the seat next to Mickey.

 _Jesus_ , they never stop.

He spreads a bunch of books and papers out on the table, and Mickey pushes his chair back, he is definitely _not_ getting involved with that. 

‘Nah man, I ain’t good with that shit.’ Mickey says, waving his hand dismissively. ‘Didn’t even finish high school.’ 

‘Which we’re working on.’ Ian says, his hands coming down to rest on the top of Mickey’s shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. He rolls his eyes, God, they have one conversation about him _possibly_ getting his GED and suddenly that’s the plan. It makes him feel _slightly_ weird and a little overwhelmed, but there's a small part of him that finds Ian’s belief in him endearing. 

No one’s ever really cared about his future the way Ian does. He can’t be mad about that

'Hey, maybe with all this quarantine shit you could start studying for that?' Ian says, grinning. He knows he's pushing his luck, his eyebrow quirked, so Mickey answers with a solid middle finger. 

'Not gonna happen.' Mickey says plainly, squashing down the way his stomach swoops at the idea. 

‘You asked Lip?’ Ian asks, pulling out the chair next to his younger brother. Mickey leans forward and tops his empty mug up with coffee, Ian throws him a grateful look, smiling before bringing it up to his lips at taking a sip. It's domestic and a little gay, but Mickey loves it. 

‘Yeah I sent him a text but he hasn’t replied yet.’ Liam answers, pulling out his pens from his backpack and setting them on the table, ‘I think he and Tami are fighting.’ 

Mickey shoots Ian a pointed look, eyebrows raised, because yeah, they’re definitely fighting. There’s been a constant stream of yelling coming from the RV in the yard for the last day or so. 

Mickey wonders how long it’ll take for one of them to crack. 

Almost as if they read his mind, the back door slams open and Tami comes storming in, baby Fred sitting on her hip. 

‘Lip Gallagher you do _not_ follow me in here!’ She barks behind her, her face twisted angrily. ‘I do not want to see your face right now.’ 

Liam looks wistfully outside as Ian leans back and pushes the door shut, ‘Lockdown.’ He says plainly and Liam sinks back into his seat. 

‘You good, Tami?’ Ian calls over to where she’s pacing in the living room, Carl dodging around her every move to keep his eyes glued on the tv. 

‘Yeah, great. Really _fucking_ great!’ She replies, her voice tight as she bounces Fred on her hip. ‘We’re great.’ 

Mickey doesn’t really know a huge amount about Tami, they don’t really fall into each other’s orbits, but he knows she definitely does not look like she’s doing great. To be frank, she looks like shit. 

‘You sure?’ Mickey says, shooting Ian a questioning look who responds with a shrug. They’re both out of their depth here, but the door slams open again and Lip comes rallying through. 

‘Tami.’ He says, moving forward into the living room and the tension in the house suddenly spikes up fourfold. 

She moves backs up quickly, positioning herself right in front of tv causing Carl to call out in a grumpy protest, ‘ _Hey_! I’m watching that!’

‘Lockdown.’ Ian mutters, leaning backwards once again to close the door to the outside world. 

Lip and Tami start screaming at each other, voices high and raised. He doesn’t even know what they’re fighting about, they move so quickly that the subject line gets lost. He’s unsure if they even know what they’re fighting about anymore but their shrill voices dig right under his skin. He's about to tell them to fuck off and take the domestics somewhere else away from them, when Ian looks over at him sadly, his face torn. Mickey softens and feels a tinge of sympathy in his gut, hating the fact that he has to watch Ian hurting over his brother - except he can't help but be thankful it’s not them. They’ve done enough of their fighting for a lifetime. He takes a deep breath, pushing down the feeling of rising irritation and shifts his hand on the table to allow his finger tips to brush softly on top of Ian’s hand. It’s only a small gesture amongst the chaos, but the way Ian smiles is enough for him. 

* * *

A few hours later finds Mickey passed out again, because as it turns out, doing nothing productive all day is exhausting. It was a pretty restful sleep, he'd been snoozing quite deeply up until about 20 seconds ago. 

There’s something prodding his face.

It’s the middle of the day and he’s just trying to take a goddamn nap but there’s something poking at his face like it’s Facebook in 2009. 

‘The fuck?’ He growls, his eyes flying open and his hands coming up in front of him in defence. There’s a small squeak and Mickey sits up, letting his eyes adjust in the low light. Franny’s sitting a foot or so away from him on the bed, her face pulled into a wide, toothy grin. She’s holding a book tightly in one hand. 

‘Stickers!’ She coos, before peeling off another one and jumping forward, sticking it right in the middle of Mickey’s forehead. 

‘What the _fuck?_ ’ Mickey says, attempting to swipe up in protest, but Franny scrambles forward onto his chest, sticking more on all over his face and neck. ‘Hey, hey, no-’

‘Pretty!’ She says, laughing and throwing her small arms out gleefully. It's cute, but Mickey would be damned to admit it. ‘You look pretty!’ 

'That's great, _sunshine_ , but get off.' 

‘Mick?’ Ian calls, his voice getting louder as he enters the room. ‘Mick, I-’ 

He stops and there’s a beat of silence before Ian starts full on belly laughing, his shoulders bouncing up and down as his breath comes out ragged and disjointed. Mickey scowls. 

‘Yeah, yeah, very funny.’ He grumbles, lightly pushing Franny off him and onto the bed. Ian swallows, gathering himself, though Mickey can still see the small smile playing at his lips as he tries, and fails, to hold it in. 

‘Hey Franny let Uncle Mick sleep, okay?’ Ian says, his voice cracking with amusement as he tries to hold it steady. ‘Go find mommy, go on.’ He lifts her up off the bed and back onto the floor, guiding her gently out into the hallway. The action makes his heart ache as it thumps heavily in his chest.

Mickey may be pissed, but he can always appreciate how _good_ Ian is with kids. 

Ian comes back into the room, instantly laughing again when he crosses over to Mickey on the bed, ‘Come on Mick, you gotta admit it’s kinda funny.’ He says gently, wiping at his eyes, before turning all serious, ‘You look good with sparkly purple stars.’ 

‘Shut up, _dick_.’ Mickey groans, bringing his hands up to his face to peel the monstrosities off. 

Ian grabs his wrist before it reaches his chin, ‘Is that a unicorn?’ He says, his eyebrow curving upwards and playful. Mickey’s about to shake him off, but Ian reaches around him quickly and grabs his phone off of the side. 

‘No.’ Mickey protests, moving out from underneath Ian’s grasp. ‘No, not at all.’ He stumbles out of bed, his hands held out in protest in front of him. 

‘Come on Mick, let me take one pic.’ Ian says, his tone lively and light. ‘Just the one.’ 

‘Fuck off.’ Mickey bites, but Ian already is leaning forward with the camera in his face, the flash goes off and he lets out a triumphant sound. ‘You happy now?’ He says, softening at Ian's joy. 

Ian grins, nodding and Mickey rolls his eyes fondly, ‘You’re such an asshole.’ He says, but there’s no bite behind it. His husband is a fucking dork, and he loves it. ‘Now help me get these shits off my face.’ 

* * *

Mickey can tell it’s a surprise to the rest of the Gallaghers how well he and Ian are faring being hauled up together in the house for so long. He knows they all expected them to be at each other's necks all the time, considering their track record, but they’ve been to hell and back for their relationship so being locked in the same space for a minimum of two weeks? Piece of cake. It took at least a few months before prison life took a toll on them, and even after that they managed to work through it, thankfully. He remembers how horrible those couple days were, where it felt like neither one of them could do anything right, the constant digging deep under the other’s skin. Ian's voice sounding like nails screeching down a chalkboard. He shivers at the memory, at their sweaty yellow jumpsuits, and how suffocating it felt to be in that close proximity. This time it’s different though, they’re different, and he feels like he can breathe. He doesn’t think he’s been able to breathe this freely in a long, long time. 

‘How are you guys doin’ it man? Tami’s about ready to rip my head off.’ Lip sighs, his hands coming up to rub exasperatedly at his eyes. He looks exhausted, eyes drooped. 

They’re sitting out on the front porch steps, it’s about as far as they allow themselves to leave the house under their own lockdown rules. Ian’s leaning against Mickey’s side as they pass a cigarette between the two of them, they’re huddled in warm and close. They’re running low on smokes without the chance to run to the store, so they’ve taken to sharing one, neither man minding at all. 

Mickey _was_ enjoying the moment of peace and quiet away from it all inside before the door slammed and a pissed off Lip came out and slumped down next to them. 

‘Prison, man.’ Mickey says as he exhales, watching the smoke drift wistfully into the air and contrasting against the blue sky. He places the cigarette in Ian’s waiting mouth who meets him with two deft fingers. ‘Once you live together there, everything else is fuckin’ easy.’ 

Ian inhales and Mickey watches the way his chest rises and falls as the smoke comes tumbling out his nose, ‘We’re also married.’ Ian says, flicking the ash down on wooden planks. ‘Kinda helps when you wanna spend the rest of your life with the guy.’ 

Mickey hums in agreement, his chest warm from something other than the smoke he’s been inhaling. He moves his hand to rest comfortably on the top of Ian’s bent knee, the wedding band on his finger catching the light, glinting brightly.

Oh yeah, he definitely wants to spend the rest of his life with this guy. 

Truthfully, they’ve both been working a lot on communicating more since the wedding. Ian’s been trying hard to come clean whenever he feels hesitant about anything and Mickey’s been working on allowing himself to be heard, insecurities and all, without feeling the need to lash out. He’s no longer worried that Ian may one day turn around and claim their marriage was a mistake, he knows he’s as committed as he is, but the scars of his hesitancy still somewhat remain. They talk more, spend hours after sex just discussing their day, or taking a moment to open up about shit going on and allowing themselves the space to work through it. 

It’s the first time in their lives that they don’t have an axe hanging over their relationship waiting to drop - and they’re revelling in it. 

‘Well congrats to you guys.’ Lip says, leaning forward with his head falling into his hands. ‘Didn’t think I’d see the day where you two win on the functioning relationship front.’ 

Ian laughs at that, ‘Yeah I didn’t either.’ He says, and though his tone is light and playful, Mickey can’t help but elbow him in the ribs. Ian twists away from him, ready to grab at his wrist when- 

_‘HEY!’_

They all, unfortunately, know that voice. 

Ian tenses up next to him, and he slips a protective arm around his side, pulling him in closer. 

The three of them look up from their spot on the porch to see Frank standing, swaying, on the opposite side of the street. 

‘It’s my family! My ungrateful shitty famil-’ Frank calls, his arm waving erratically out to his side. It’s been weeks since they saw him last and they were all pretty happy figuring that he was okay with dealing with this shit himself, as he always seems to be. Mickey definitely hadn’t been bothered. ‘You gonna let me in my own home?’ 

His words are slurred and messy, and Mickey rolls his eyes at the idea of even in the middle of a global health pandemic, Frank still finds time to get completely smashed. 

Who the fuck is still open to sell him the booze? 

‘Not gonna happen Frank.’ Ian bites, stubbing out the cigarette by his foot. 

‘Yeah, get lost Frank.’ Lip says, standing up from where he’d been seated. Mickey’s sure it’s supposed to look intimidating, but it doesn’t. He gives the guy some credit though, with the way he steps forward, fists clenched. ‘You ain’t coming in.’ 

‘My boys, my boys, h-how can can you leave your-’ Frank slurs, stumbling as he moves across the road towards the porch fence, ‘Leave… your poor dad out _here_ in the face of the apocalypse!’ 

‘It’s not the apocalypse, Frank.’ Mickey snaps, already bored of the man’s bullshit. He’d say he didn’t know how Ian survived having Frank as a father growing up, but Mickey also dealt with his fair share of shitty fathers courtesy of Terry Milkovich - so he definitely knows what it means to survive them. ‘You better not come any closer.’ 

Frank reaches the chain link gate and shakes it angrily in his drunken stupor, ‘You hear that Chicago! My _own_ family throws me out-’ 

‘Go find a bridge to sleep under, or go back to wherever the hell you’ve been staying- you ain’t coming in.’ Lip says, his voice hard and protective. ‘There’s too many kids here.’ 

Frank’s face twists in protest as he cries out dramatically, his hands coming down hard against the fence. Mickey hears Ian groan next to him and watches as he turns around and grabs the closest thing he can reach before launching it at Frank. The empty beer can bounces off of Frank’s head and clatters onto the street below. 

‘We’ll see you in a couple of weeks Frank.’ Ian says, keeping his voice steady and casual but Mickey can hear the edge to his words. Irritation rolls off of Ian in waves, and Mickey places what he hopes is a comforting, grounding hand on his shoulder. 

‘If I’m still _alive_!’ He yells angrily, turning away from the house and stumbling down the street. They watch as he drunkenly falls head first into the yard of a house a few rows down, before presumably, passing out cold. 

_At least they know where he is for the time being_ , Mickey thinks. 

‘He’s gonna be fine.’ Lip sighs exasperatedly, before turning to move back inside the house. He stops, his shoulders hunched and his hand on the door handle. ‘Wish me luck.’ 

‘You got this.’ Ian says, and Lip gives him a nod before he disappears back into the house. Ian sighs, dropping his head against Mickey’s shoulder. It’s a little strange, and still slightly foreign for them, but softer moments like these are becoming more common. 

‘You good, Gallagher?’ Mickey whispers, pulling Ian in closer by a firm hand on his hip. They’ve barely left each other’s side for the last few days - save to literally go pee and shower, and still all he wants to do is have him as close as he possibly can. 

‘Yeah.’ Ian hums, his hand coming to rest gently on the top of his, his pale skin contrasting starkly with the dark and angry ink on his knuckles. ‘Yeah, real good.’ 

And they are, they’re really fucking good. 

**Author's Note:**

> pls ignore some of the issues about the timeline, i'm not sure where i'd even set this in regards to canon. 
> 
> please stay safe everyone, stay indoors and practise social distancing. it's incredibly important. 
> 
> [follow me on twitter](https://twitter.com/buzzcutian) and oforamuse on tumblr - follow me over there. 
> 
> lots of love,  
> xoxo


End file.
